


Deux Dates

by Scrunchles



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: First Dates, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 14:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/pseuds/Scrunchles
Summary: Spy shrugs.  “If you know overindulging might cause you to lose control and possibly burn me and everything I hold dear to ashes, I trust you to know your limits and to respect them,” he says.  “Otherwise, this will be a very short and unhappy tryst.”Pyro smiles and sets the unopened bottle down on Spy’s side of the table. “I think this will be my last glass, then,” Pyro admits.Spy chuckles and picks up his glass to toast him.  “More for me. And I live to see a second date.”Pyro hurriedly picks up his own glass to click against Spy’s.  “I’ll try to make it special.”





	Deux Dates

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request for some Spy/Pyro. I had a lot of fun with it. It's been a while, but I still love these guys!

The sound of Pyro’s suit moving against itself fills the empty hallway as he makes his way to Spy’s smoking room.  Despite their close friendship, he’s never been inside before. He’s not sure any of their team have, which is why Pyro was so surprised that Spy would invite him to dine with him after a lazy night of television and beer.

 

Pyro stops in front of the door and wrings his gloved hands nervously, creating even more noise. The door is as plain and dull as the rest of the base, only differentiated by the ornate sign Spy hung on it to declare it his.  Pyro takes a deep breath, straightens up and then knocks. His glove muffles it, and he’s about to tug it off for another go before he hears a soft shuffle on the other side of the door and it swings open. 

 

Spy has his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up.  One hand holds two glasses of wine, slipped between his fingers with a practiced air, and the other closes the door behind Pyro.  He doesn’t remember taking the steps forward, he was too focused on the collar of Spy’s shirt, unbuttoned and splayed open so that he can see where mask meets skin just above Spy’s pecs.  The sliver of sparse, curly chest hair is intensely intimate when Spy is usually only seen with his suit fully put together and immaculate. Pyro is glad that his own mask hides his flushed face.

 

“Good evening,” Spy says, closing the door behind Pyro.  One hand rests on Pyro’s lower back and his other arm comes around to offer him one of the glasses of wine.  “I appreciate you joining me.”

 

_ I’m happy to be here _ sticks in Pyro’s throat.  He takes the wine glass and nods quietly, nervousness flooding him.  

 

“Are you comfortable in your suit?” Spy asks as he strides away to collect his half-finished cigarette from an ashtray on the small end table beside one of two armchairs. Pyro’s eyes are drawn to the rest of the room now that Spy isn’t facing him.  There’s a fireplace with wood and kindling in it, but no fire. Pyro feels a pang of disappointment at the realization, but he knows that if it were lit, he probably wouldn’t pay attention to his date. There are bookshelves against two of the room’s walls and there’s a luxurious looking rug beneath the two armchairs. Beside the more well-worn armchair sits an end table with Spy’s ashtray.  A chess table sits in the corner and a small dining set has been pulled out into the empty space of the rest of the room. It has two plates of food on it. It looks like their normal fair, a browned hunk of Mann Co brand protein, vegetables, and bread, but when Pyro slips his mask off, it smells  _ wonderful. _

 

“It smells  _ so  _ good,” he says as he lets his mask rest on the seat of the less worn armchair. His eyes catch on the glint of brass, and he realizes that there’s an unlit candelabra between the plates.  He shifts uneasily, sipping at the wine to try and keep his cool. “Are you going to light those?” he asks.

 

“I was planning on it.  Would you like the honors? Or are they too much?” Spy asks, walking over to a record player and fiddling with its settings before setting the needle and letting classical piano softly filter through the room.  “Some people think they are overstated, but I’m a romantic.”

 

“Uhm…” Pyro looks down at the wine in his hand, the food that smells amazing, the music, and Spy looking at him with a raised brow.  Pyro can see just a peek of his chest between the buttons of his shirt and the bottom edge of his mask. “I’m worried they might be distracting,” he finally says.  Though the addition of warm, dancing little flames sounds absolutely perfect... “I haven’t taken my meds in…  _ a while _ .”

 

Spy hums with the tune of the piano and strides over to Pyro.  “You already seem quite distracted,” Spy points out, which brings Pyro’s eyes up from his triangle of exposed skin to Spy’s steel blue eyes watching him.

 

“I’m used to only seeing you in a suit,” Pyro points out with a small smile.  “You’re pretty hot.”

 

“An... enormous compliment coming from you,” Spy tells him with a soft chuckle and an amused smile. 

 

“Not that you aren’t attractive with your suit too!” Pyro attempts to wave his hands and ends up spilling wine on the rug.  “Shit,” he says, hurriedly setting the wine glass down on the dining table. Spy crosses to him and blocks him from moving to clean it.

 

“It’s fine,” he says.

 

Pyro sheepishly grimaces, unable to hold Spy’s eyes as his freckled cheeks flush darker.  “Sorry,” he says, trying not to focus on Spy’s chest again, but not doing so might mean meeting his eyes.

 

“Don’t apologize,” Spy tells him. “Though my eyes  _ are  _ up here.”

 

His tone brings back Pyro’s smile and he can’t keep a laugh from slipping out.  He jerks his eyes back up to Spy’s face and nods. “I’ll try to focus on them more,” he promises, then tries to peek around Spy at the rug, but the Frenchman shifts to block his gaze.

 

Spy’s eyes crinkle in a smile and he takes one last drag on his cigarette before turning away to stub it out in the ashtray.  “You must be hungry. We should eat before the food gets cold,” he points out before striding over to pull out a chair.

 

“Oh, right!” Pyro tugs his gloves off and unzips the top half of his suit quickly, baring his usual cotton t-shirt.  The edge of his boxers peeks over the edge of the suit before he tugs it up and ties the arms around his waist. Once he’s confident in his modesty, he goes over to the other chair.  Spy sits as well and motions to the candles with a raised brow.

 

“Uhm… unlit,” he says, though he’s truly torn.  It must show on his face, because Spy doesn’t drop his inquisitive hand and arches his brow further.  “I want to enjoy this because it’s spending time with you. Like I said, I don’t want to be distracted,” he explains.  

 

Spy hums and drops his hand.  “I’m a bit curious whether you would be more distracted by the candles or me now,” he says, though he picks up his knife and fork rather than push the subject.

 

Pyro smiles and shrugs.  “Maybe that can be a second date thing,” he suggests as he cuts into the protein slice and takes a bite.  It’s flavorful and appetizing. He shoves two more bites in his mouth before taking a drink of the wine.

 

“Good?” Spy asks.  He sounds pleased, and a little amused.

 

Pyro grins and nods with a muffled, “yeah,” before taking a bite of vegetables.  

 

The record ends shortly after Pyro finishes eating and he hops up to flip it since Spy is still taking carefully measured bites.  When he sits back down, he braces his chin on his palms and watches Spy across the table thoughtfully.

 

“Do you have a question?” Spy asks, laying his utensils down and settling back in his chair with his wine glass.

 

“Oh, I don't want to interrupt you,” Pyro says.  “I can wait until you’re done.”

 

“No need.”  Spy brushes his concern off with a flutter of his gloved fingers and a charming smile.  “I eat slowly generally. It is a lasting habit from home, dinner usually lasts a long time and there is talking during…” he takes a sip of wine and swirls it around his glass with a soft sigh. “I usually eat faster when I’m around the team out of necessity, but I do prefer a calmer pace in private.  If that’s alright with you?”

 

Pyro glances down at his clean plate with a soft laugh.  “Ah… yeah.” 

 

“That isn’t to say that you should eat more slowly,” Spy says, his voice slipping from his calm and collected tone to sounding slightly strained.  “It is just that I prefer it and I don’t want you to be made uncomfortable.” He seems done, but then clears his throat and adds, “ _ if  _ we share more meals after this one.”

 

Pyro’s smile widens and he picks up his wine glass to attempt to hide behind it.  “So far, I think we should. If you want to.”

 

“Aside from just seeing whether I’m more attractive than fire?” Spy asks.

 

Pyro laughs and nods.  “Your cooking is good too.  I didn’t realize that the food here could have taste.”

 

“The magic of spices,” Spy says, looking pleased with himself.  “The closest any of those other buffoons get to taste is Engineer’s spice rub or Soldier dumping half of a pepper shaker on his plate.”

 

Another laugh slips out and Pyro refills both of their wine glasses, finishing off the bottle.  

 

“There’s another in the cabinet,” Spy says.  “And some harder fare if you’d prefer. All quality.”

 

“I don’t hold my liquor well,” Pyro admits as he walks to the indicated cabinet and gets another bottle of wine.

 

“Oh?” Spy asks.

 

When he stays silent, waiting for an elaboration, Pyro makes a soft noise in his throat and shrugs.  “I’m happy enough, but there’s more chance of me setting the base on fire that way.”

 

“Ah.”  Spy snorts, but doesn’t look too concerned.  Pyro appreciates that. When he told Engineer that he might burn down the base if he got drunk, he pulled the six pack closer to him and told Pyro maybe he’d better stick with water or pop.

 

“You don’t seem worried,” Pyro says, returning with the bottle and uncorking it with a bit of difficulty.

 

Spy shrugs.  “If you know overindulging might cause you to lose control and possibly burn me and everything I hold dear to ashes, I trust you to know your limits and to respect them,” he says.  “Otherwise, this will be a very short and unhappy tryst.”

 

Pyro smiles and sets the new bottle down on Spy’s side of the table. “I think this will be my last glass, then,” Pyro admits.

 

Spy chuckles and picks up his glass to toast him.  “More for me. And I live to see a second date.”

 

Pyro hurriedly picks up his own glass to click against Spy’s.  “I’ll try to make it special.”

 

——

 

Spy smells the vanilla before he turns the corner.  In front of his leisure room is a small, lit tea light.

 

A smile curls his lips as Spy spots another candle about a meter away, then another.  He hums as he goes, following the trail of little candles along the way to Pyro’s room, finding them with increasing frequency until they are a little unbroken line of light in the dark hallway.  There must be a hundred at least.

 

When he finally reaches Pyro’s door, he knocks lightly after carefully putting out his cigarette and tucking the butt away in his disguise kit.

 

Pyro opens the door with a warm smile, already in soft, comfortable looking clothing.  Spy doesn’t notice the plethora of candles until he’s embraced the other man and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.  “How many are there?” He asks, gazing around the room.

 

“However many fit into a Mann Co. crate,” Pyro says, his eyes shining in the light cast off of  _ thousands _ of tiny tea lights.

 

Spy chuckles and gives Pyro’s arm a squeeze.  “It’s magnificent.”

 

Pyro grins and his eyes flit around Spy’s face before he quickly turns away and walks over to a few boxes that have been stacked for a table.  There is a sheet thrown over them for a tablecloth and some plates of overly browned vegetables and caramelized protein slices on top of that. The seats are cleverly stacked mounds of pillows that look ready to topple over at any moment.  A glance at Pyro’s bed—still swathed in many, many pillows despite the seating— tells Spy where they likely came from. 

 

“It won’t taste as good as yours,” Pyro says, as if it’s not obvious.

 

Spy chuckles and follows Pyro to the makeshift table.  “It’s perfect,” he assures him. “This is all very thoughtful, and looks like you got a good  _ caramélisation _ on the meat.”

 

“Engie said that honey can be used as a tenderizer…” Pyro says, his cheeks pink at the praise.

 

“It also lends a wonderful flavor.”  Spy cups Pyro’s face and gives his freckled cheek an affectionate pet with his thumb.

 

Pyro’s eyes focus on Spy’s face again, but more on his cheek and jaw than his eyes.

 

“You seem distracted,” Spy points out.

 

“I… uhm…” Pyro shakes his head and pulls away to sit on one of the pillow piles.  “I’m just nervous. I don’t cook much.”

 

Spy hums and unbuttons his suit jacket before slipping it off so that it doesn’t wrinkle from slumping on the pillows.  He makes sure to carefully fold it and places it as far from any surface with candles on it as possible. Next, he loosens his tie and unbuttons the first few buttons of his dress shirt before sliding down to sit on the second pillow pile.

 

Pyro is staring at the flickering lights around them, and Spy clears his throat to draw his attention back.  Maybe he was distracted by the lights earlier.

 

Spy smiles when Pyro’s attention returns to him.  Spy pulls his handkerchief from his pocket and drapes it over his lap before picking up his knife and fork.  “I’m surprised that you went to all this trouble when you were concerned one candle would distract you last time,” Spy points out.

 

Pyro picks at his vegetables and bites his lip.  “I remembered to get a prescription refill from Medic,” he says, then hesitated and adds, “ _ and  _ I am… hoping to be more distracted by you.”

 

Spy stops cutting his meat and drops his fork to raise his hand to his face.  “Ah!  _ Merde- _ I knew I was forgetting something,” he says before setting his knife down and bringing both hands up to tug the edge of his mask up from where it lay flat against his chest.  He rolls it carefully to maintain the integrity of the fabric and rubs his hand through his mask- and sweat-flattened hair. “My apologies. I don’t usually take it off,” he says.  “Even when I’m alone, I forget often.” 

 

“I didn’t want to bring it up if you didn’t want to take it off,” Pyro replies, leaning forward so that his elbows are on the box and his chin is on his palms.  

 

Spy chuckles and lays the mask carefully to the side.  “I am quite comfortable around you,” he assures Pyro as he slips his tie off and opens another button on his shirt.

 

Pyro’s eyes slide down from Spy’s face to his chest and Spy smiles, enjoying the attention as he resumes cutting his meat.  

 

“Careful, or my ego might catch the room on fire,” Spy tells Pyro.

 

Pyro makes a high, surprised noise and his silverware clacks against his plate uselessly for a few seconds before he lets the utensils fall in apparent frustration.  “How am I supposed to focus when the tea lights keep casting shadows from your cheekbones?! And your tan lines…” Pyro seems to war with himself for a moment. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

 

“Are they unsightly?” Spy raises his fingertips to his cheek where he knows a stark line separates the pale skin of his cheek from the slight tan around his eyes.  “I might be able to even it out a bit, but—“ 

 

“Don’t!” Pyro says, loudly and quickly.  When he realizes it, he flushes and looks down at his plate. “I like them,” he tells Spy.  “They’re cute.”

 

Spy smiles and reaches across the table to touch Pyro’s hand.  “They will remain, then. But only if you’re able to tear your eyes away long enough to eat.”

 

Pyro laughs lightly and turns his hand to catch Spy’s fingers in a gentle hold.  “Alright, then,” he says. “I’m sure with more exposure I’ll get used to it…”

 

Spy smirks and touches another button on his shirt.  “I suppose as you get used to me, I’ll have to continue to loosen buttons,” he teases.

 

Pyro’s face goes totally red and he drops his attention down to his food, shoving several bites into his mouth at once.

 

Spy smiles and bites back a chuckle.  He eats the over-salted and over-cooked vegetables and nibbles on the surprisingly fresh bread while he waits for Pyro to recover.  Maybe he should tease him less. He’s a sweet young man, and doesn’t appear to have romantic relationships often. He certainly hasn’t had one with any of their teammates in the past three years they’ve been stationed together.  

 

He can feel Pyro’s eyes on him every once in a while, and he appears to be eating much more slowly than he had on their first date.  Spy settles back from his food and the pillows beneath him slip slightly, putting his chest level with the table and dragging a surprised exclamation from him.

 

Pyro laughs softly, but purses his lips and tries to hide his smile when Spy looks up at him.  

 

“Is that funny?” he asks, trying for petulant, but he knows he just looks and sounds ridiculous as a grown man sitting on the floor.  

 

Pyro hides his smile behind a hand, but he can’t hide the delight in his eyes.  

 

Spy keeps up the act, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed as he stands to restack the pillows.  They slip again and Spy huffs before walking around to sit on Pyro’s side of the “table.” He plops down and bumps Pyro over a bit so that there’s enough room for his ass on the makeshift seat.

 

“Hey!” Pyro exclaims, trying to shift back over and push Spy off his seat.  “You messed up your own seat, don’t ruin mine too!” 

 

Spy chuckles and leans toward Pyro, fighting with his elbow and hip for the seating.  “You provided a faulty chair, as my host, it’s only proper that you—“ a pillow slips and Spy feels Pyro’s shoulder bear into his arm.  They both topple to the side, Pyro laughing and Spy letting out a surprised curse. 

 

Pyro lands face down against Spy.  His breath is warm through Spy’s shirt and it sends pleasant goosebumps up his side and spine.  Pyro’s still laughing, and Spy can’t help but join him, a snort escaping him and causing Pyro to laugh harder.  

 

It lasts long enough that Spy’s stomach aches.  When he tries to stop laughing, Pyro lets a giggle slip out and it worms its way into Spy’s chest and another honking, snorting laugh starts up.

 

When they finally settle, Pyro’s hand is on Spy’s chest and his head rests on Spy’s still quivering stomach. 

 

“Please stop making me laugh,” Spy pleads.  “I’m hungry again.”

 

Pyro snorts and tilts his head up to grin at Spy.  “But I like your laugh,” he says.

 

Spy brings his hand up to cup Pyro’s cheek.  He smiles down at Pyro and then sits up to draw him into a gentle kiss.  “I suppose I have no other option than to starve then, hm?” Spy asks.

 

Pyro’s face goes red and he looks like he might explode.  Spy smirks, convinced that he’s still got his charms, but then Pyro bursts out in laughter again and shifts to wrap his arms around Spy’s neck.  He presses his temple to Spy’s collar bone and shakes his head slowly as he calms down. 

 

“How rude,” Spy chastises him.  “I was being romantic and serious!” he insists.

 

Pyro continues to giggle against Spy’s sternum, then takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.  “Very romantic,” he agrees. A laugh slips out and he sounds like he’s choking on his next words. “So serious…” 

 

Spy hisses and smacks Pyro’s hip playfully.  “I am!” he insists as he wraps his arms around Pyro’s waist and drags him closer.  

 

Pyro hums and his head shifts up to rest on Spy’s shoulder with the new position.  He stays still for a few seconds, then shifts like he’s trying to get up. “Well, if you’re still hungry—“  Spy cuts him off by jerking Pyro back down against him chest and tightening his arms around the other man.

 

“I’m fine,” Spy says.  

 

Pyro smiles and relaxes against Spy.  “Me too,” he replies. 


End file.
